"Exploring The Alluring Charm of The Big... " a New Orleans Travel Page by nomorewars

Driving eastbound along Interstate 10, through the desolate countryside of East Texas, where the residual effects of Hurricane Ike stand more akin to the aftermath of an invading army than a natural disaster, my family & I sat inside our frail 2007 Chrysler Sebring -- sweating -- as our anticipation for our imminent sojourn in New Orleans mounted.

As I drove, taking notice of the grimy shoreline of the City of Baytown, I became fixated on a set of waves; which, as I peered past my wife’s glowing face, I surveyed as they appeared to be in some sort of competition: cresting & crashing over one another as they rushed through the dark, murky water of Burnett Bay.

Focusing once again on my wife, I became reacquainted with her beauty; her mocha-colored skin glistened against the backdrop of multiple prisms, which were spawned by the ocean’s mist. In this moment of rapture--a genuine heartfelt joy--I leaned over to my wife & kissed her soft, tender lips.

Reeling back, as the road began to demand my attention, I smiled in triumph as I basked in the knowledge of a single fact: after ten years of marriage I am still in love with this woman; one would agree that this adventure to New Orleans had, in fact, started off with a bang.

As we made our approach to the Texas-Louisiana Stateline—a juncture I know all so well—the family car began to wail in some sort of agony. The car was nothing fancy, just a third-rate piece of Detroit scrap metal, all scuffed & scratched & dented; it was my most valuable possession, however—the first brand new car I had ever owned.

“If you’re going to buy American,” my father had forewarned when I was fifteen, “make sure you buy Ford. Buying otherwise,” he continued with smile, believing he was parting with some great piece of knowledge that only he possessed, “you’re just investing in a future headache.” I wished I would have listened.

After a minor glitch with our mode of transportation, which caused us to lose an hour or so on our journey, we were back on the road, minus $200.00 or so, but equipped with an even more intense feeling of joy & excitement: Yes, our trip to New Orleans had been temporarily delayed, but not cancelled.

Our visions of unlimited crawfish, boudin balls, & broiled shrimp continued to dance in our head; nothing would (or even could) ruin our New Orleans fantasy—not even this hunk-of-junk we called a car. Though it costs more money to fill a tank of gas than the Chrysler Sebring, I’m going to take the Honda Pilot on our next family outing.